“How’s it look?” Brand asked, stepping close and peering at his hand. “Did ya break it?”
“I don’t think so,” Vance grumbled irritably. He glared at Brand. “No thanks to you, ya fucker.”
Brand rolled his eyes before glaring at him. “It was a valid question. If you’re going to have a relationship with this man, he needs to know the truth of your situation.” Before Vance’s pain-clouded mind could come up with a response to that, Brand wagged a finger under his nose. “Unless you’re finally ready to accept help from your friends, so you can change the damn situation. She’s bleedin’ ya dry, man!”
Resting the back of his head against the wall behind him, Vance sighed deeply. “And what would you have me do?” he whispered, the question out of his mouth before he could think better of it. “She needs the money for Mark.”
Growling, Brand whispered harshly, “You and I both know that’s a lie. She doesn’t use even half of your child support for Mark.” Brand met Vance’s gaze squarely, his dark eyes full of sadness. “I’ve seen the wear on his shirts, his sneakers, and I’ve seen you take him shopping. So where the fuck is the money you’re giving her going?”
“She doesn’t have a job, and the house needs—” Vance began to defend, but Brand cut him off.
“Exactly. She doesn’t work. She has one son, so why the fuck does she need a four bedroom, three bath house in suburbia?” Brand shook his head. “Or why does she need to lease a brand new car every other year? She’s using you as her personal piggy bank, and on top of that, she’s teaching Mark to be an asshole.” Resting his huge hand on Vance’s shoulder, Brand squeezed supportively. “It’s gotta stop, man.” He paused a heartbeat, then added, “Let us help you make it stop.”
Vance sighed heavily. If those accusations had come from anyone else—man or woman—he probably would have decked them. As it was, Vance knew Brand was right. He was nearly forty years old, had been divorced for over a decade, and he still allowed his ex to manipulate him.
He was just so damn tired of feeling railroaded... by everyone. His ex-wife wanted him to pay for her life. His best friend wanted him to man up, so to speak. Even his son wanted him to get a real job, so he didn’t have to deal with fags when he visited him.
God, will Jimmy end up wanting something from me, too?
Vance did his best to dismiss the uncharitable thought. So far, Jimmy hadn’t shown any sign of being a user like his ex-wife. Hell, the man had been upfront about everything, including that he had concerns—and they were good concerns, too.
If I fix the problem of my ex, that will solve one issue, but what do I do about Mark?
“Well, damn, Vance,” Brand mumbled, drawing his attention. “I’ve said shit like this before, and either you’ve always yelled at me to mind my own damn business, or you’ve brushed me off.” For a long moment, Brand just stared at him, then his lips curved into a shit-eating grin. “Holy shit! Is this because of Jimmy?” His eyes widened. “Oh, you’re serious about this guy, aren’t you?”
Vance was having a damn hard time keeping up, what with the way Brand was rambling combined with the pain pulsing through his hand and up his arm. So... he answered the last question first and disregarded the rest.
“Yes, I’m serious about Jimmy,” Vance admitted heavily. “I can’t remember the last time I met someone that—” He paused, frowning, suddenly realizing the words he’d intended to say were actually the answer to another of Brand’s questions. “Jimmy is someone that makes me willing to shake up my status quo, to get out of the rut my life has become.” Scoffing, he muttered, “As lame and sappy as it may sound, Jimmy is the catalyst for me wanting to fix a few things in my life.”
Vance remembered Jimmy saying something similar on one of their phone calls, although the way he’d said it hadn’t been quite so flattering. His bartender had been worried he’d come to regret their time together, blaming him for possible future problems. Vance knew there was no chance of that. His ex-wife would always be the one he would blame if future problems arose.
The vindictive bitch.
That meant Vance had to go about things the right way. He needed to have the proper support, the right aid. He would need to talk to Laramie about—
“Vance, are you okay?” Brand squeezed his shoulder again, drawing his attention to his furrowed brows and concerned expression. “Vance? Maybe I oughta take you to the hospital. You’re pretty flushed. Maybe you broke your thumb after all.” Then Brand began sliding his arm around his shoulders, drawing him away from the wall. “Come on, man. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.”
“I’m okay,” Vance reassured, coming back to himself. “Just got caught up in my mind.”
“Uh huh, sure,” Brand muttered, clearly disbelieving. “I’d still like to get you checked out, but we’ll have the big boss give us a second opinion. ‘Kay?”
While Vance had no desire to go to the hospital, he still nodded. He did feel pretty light-headed. Plus, his legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate quite as they should.
Weird.
Vance groaned softly before muttering, “God, stop, Brand. I gotta stop moving.” His stomach roiled. Somehow, it felt as if the pain radiating through his hand pulsed through his temple, making him woozy. “Stop!”
To Vance’s relief, Brand obeyed. “We’re in this barn’s office now,” Brand told him, his voice quiet, soothing. “I’m lowering you to the sofa. Just sit while I go get Laramie. Okay?”
Vance spread his legs and hung his head between his knees. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he grumbled before turning his focus to breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He fixed his attention on a large dirt smudge on the cuff of his jeans and waited.
For what felt like forever, all Vance could hear was the rushing of blood through his head. Slowly, the queasiness in his stomach abated, and his head began to clear. Vance sighed, resting his temple against the inside of his left knee.
“Good grief,” Vance muttered to himself. “I feel like a fucking pussy.” He peered at his thumb, and although it had nearly doubled in size, there wasn’t any blood. Unfortunately, however, he could no longer move it. “Maybe it is broken. Fuck, that would suck.”
“Talking to yourself, are you, Vance?”
Recognizing Laramie’s teasing tones, Vance turned his head enough so he could eye his boss. He spotted the handsome blond’s furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. His expression of concern was unmistakable, reminding Vance that, while Laramie was his boss, he was still his friend.
“Well,” Vance murmured slowly, carefully easing into a sitting position. “Brand ran away too fast to listen, so—” He lifted his right shoulder in a half-shrug, but even that increased his discomfort. “Can I just get an ice pack and fifteen minutes, please? It’s just some bruising.”
God, I hope it’s just bruising.
“Well, I’m not a doctor, and neither are you,” Laramie countered, easing onto the sofa beside him. “I called Randy and got lucky. He was off work, so he’s on his way here and should be here in about twenty-five minutes.” He gently patted Vance’s thigh. “You just relax.” Then he pointed at Brand. “You go get a few pieces of ice wrapped in a soft cloth.”
After Brand had mumbled yes, sir and disappeared, Laramie returned his attention to Vance. “So, what the hell happened?”
Appreciating not only his bluntness but the fact that he kept his voice quiet, soothing, Vance let out a low sigh. “I slipped while hammering, and I totally nailed my thumb.” Grimacing, he stared at his swollen digit. “I thought it was a glancing blow, that it would just swell, but after I’d been leaning against the wall in the stall for a minute, my head started to swim.” Recalling the thoughts that had been drifting through his mind at the time, Vance added, “It could have been partly due to what I was thinking about and how much it scares the shit out of me... the consequences—”
Vance paused, hating that he needed to admit to
the younger man the things he’d been hiding. “My ex uses the fact that I’m bisexual against me in regards to money and custody of my son.” Vance still had no clue how she’d found out, but that no longer mattered. Meeting Laramie’s wide-eyed gaze, he asked, “I know Randy had to work with a custody lawyer. Do you think he’d give me his number?”
Laramie’s jaw sagged open, but only for an instant. His brows furrowed as he snapped his mouth shut and jerked a nod. “Let me guess. You were thinking about some heavy shit while you were in pain and leaning against that wall, and then Brand tried to move you, and your brain couldn’t keep up.” Laramie didn’t seem at all surprised when Vance nodded once, for he smiled and squeezed his thigh. “While you could possibly have broken your finger, I think you’re more in mental shock than anything else.” After pulling his hand away, he added, “And, yeah, Randy will totally give you Patrick’s number.” His cheeks took on an unexpected glow. “And if he doesn’t, Trace could. Patrick is one of Trace’s ex-boyfriends.”
Oh.
That was unexpected.
Without commenting on that fact, Vance nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”
Just then, Brand returned with the ice for Vance’s thumb.
Chapter Ten
The first thing Jimmy noticed when he pulled up to Vance’s foreman’s cottage was that the man was standing on the small porch waiting for him. Next, he spotted the man’s smile... although he looked a bit pale. After he’d parked and turned off the engine, he saw the cast on Vance’s hand.
At least now the slightly wan look makes sense. Geez, what happened?
Jimmy grabbed his hat, gloves, and scarf from the passenger seat but left the backpack on the floorboard. No need to be presumptuous, but a man could hope. Then Jimmy climbed from his vehicle and closed the door.
The chilly afternoon air immediately wrapped around him, causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He had no idea how Vance managed to stay warm in a black felt cowboy hat, but damn, did he look good. After Jimmy had shoved his hat and scarf into his coat’s pockets—one on each side—he pulled on his gloves, all the while rounding his vehicle.
“Hey ya, cowboy.” Jimmy kept his voice bright even as he pointed at the cast. “I’m gonna come over there and kiss you hello first. Then I’m going to ask about that. Okay with you?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” Vance claimed.
Vance rumbled in the low husky way that always caused Jimmy’s body to flush with heat. In the chilly winter air, it actually felt really nice. Plus, it also showed him just how happy Vance was to see him.
It was better than a smile.
Jimmy climbed the couple of steps needed to reach Vance’s porch. While he was more than happy to see the man, it didn’t escape his notice that there was a bit of tightness around Vance’s lips. He stopped before him and rested his hands on Vance’s chest.
“Thanks for having me,” Jimmy whispered, then rose onto his toes in the hiking boots Vance had recommended. Gently, he pressed his lips to the other man’s in a light kiss before breaking the contact. “I can’t wait to spend the day with you.”
The evening, too, hopefully... although...
With a smile that probably appeared a little worried, Jimmy tightened his hold on Vance’s jacket as he glanced meaningfully at the dark green cast on the man’s left hand. “So? Wanna tell me what happened?” Another concern filled him as he met Vance’s gaze and noticed the pain filling his eyes. “And are you okay?” Jimmy lifted a hand to stroke down Vance’s strong, clean-shaven jaw. “Should you be up and around?”
“I admit there’s a little pain.” Vance winced. “Okay, more like a low throb, but I don’t want to take anything that will make me loopy. While we check out the pig barns, it’s far too important for me to have all my faculties about me.” Shaking his head and offering Jimmy a rueful smile, Vance added, “They’re big animals and occasionally cause mischief.”
Jimmy nodded, understanding... and even feeling a flush of warmth that Vance was willing to brave some amount of pain to make certain he remained safe on his tour. “So, is that what happened to you?” he asked softly, moving his right hand to Vance’s left arm just above his elbow. “Did you get in a tangle with a big sow?”
“Sadly, no.” Vance grimaced as he wrapped his arms loosely around Jimmy. “Unfortunately, nothing so dramatic as that. I was putting up replacement boards in a stall yesterday and managed to hit my thumb with the hammer.” Vance’s sigh sounded so damn put-upon as he scowled at his cast. “Still can’t believe I did that.”
Unable to help himself, Jimmy gaped as he peered up at Vance. “Oh, damn! You hit yourself with a hammer? Ow!”
“Yeah, little bit. Just about passed out.” Vance curled his lip in an irritable sneer, expressing his annoyance without words. “But I think that was because Brand tried to move me before I was ready.”
While Jimmy had wielded a hammer only a few times—part of his middle school shop class experience that told him tools were not his friends—he couldn’t imagine nailing himself with enough force to require a cast.
“Brand was there?” Jimmy couldn’t help but ask.
Vance nodded. “We were nailing up replacement boards in a stall.” Maybe he thought Jimmy was going to blame his big friend, for Vance quickly added, “He was on the other end of the board, nowhere near me, but I still blame him. His comment, you see.”
“His comment?” Confusion filled him.
“Shit, I wasn’t planning to tell you about that, yet.” Realizing what he’d said, Vance lifted his brows. “And I do intend to share all, just not yet, because it will take too long.” His expression turning surprisingly earnest for such a strong, confident male, Vance asked, “Can we table this discussion for dinner? I really want to get to that tour I promised you.”
While Jimmy was more than a little curious, he nodded. He really did want the tour, too. “Okay. Where to first?”
Vance slid his right hand down Jimmy’s left arm, then threaded his fingers with his own. “The pig barns, if that’s okay. I’ll show you the newborn piglets after that.”
Jimmy eagerly agreed. “Then the horses?”
“Absolutely.”
“Wait.” Jimmy again glanced at Vince’s cast, taking in the way the dark green plastic-like glove covered most of his left hand. Just the tips of his fingers poked out the end. “I know we talked about horseback riding, but is it safe for you? I don’t want to do anything that could endanger you!”
To Jimmy’s surprise, instead of appearing upset, Vance’s expression softened. His hazel eyes glowed, the deep green dominating, and his lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, sweetheart. Thank you for trying to put my safety first, but please, I assure you, it will be no trouble to take you for a ride around the arena.” Then he winked, dipped his head, and whispered, “Especially since I’m going to make you groom and saddle the horses. You’ll know everything there is to know about the animals by the time we’re done.”
“Really?”
A shiver of excited anticipation threaded through Jimmy.
Vance’s deep eyes glittered. “Oh, yeah.”
Even though he would have to do all the work, Jimmy couldn’t wait. He barely managed to resist doing a happy dance as he peered across the vast amount of yards toward the horse pens. Jimmy couldn’t stop the huge grin on his face.
“Since I know you’re super excited about that, let’s get started, hmm?” Squeezing the fingers he held, Vance tugged lightly and began leading him toward the side of the porch. “Come on.”
More than on board with that idea, Jimmy kept pace.
As much as Jimmy loved the unexpected opportunity of getting to bottle feed the new piglets—they were so damn adorable with their little grunts and tiny hungry squeals, not to mention their smooth pink flesh—he couldn’t quite hide the skip in his step when Vance led him toward the horse barn.
The building was one of the largest, with a
massive sliding front door. Vance had said it stood almost three stories and was practically new. Evidently, Laramie’s vindictive family had burned down the last one.
Just damn!
“How long have you wanted to learn to ride a horse?” Vance asked softly, squeezing his hand lightly as he led his way into the barn.
“Since I was twelve and watched Jim Craig race down the side of a steep mountain while chasing a brumby herd.”
Vance didn’t say anything for a moment as he led the way through the barn. As he stopped before a stall with a flea-bitten gray-coated horse inside, he finally replied, “Do you mean that scene in the movie The Man from Snowy River?”
Jimmy could hardly tear his gaze away from the pretty gray animal with tiny, almost spot-like black flecks throughout its coat. “Yeah,” he whispered. “On his gorgeous dun-colored gelding. So awesome.” He tore his gaze away from the horse lounging inside the stall only long enough to glance at Vance and take in his smiling countenance. “The movie was based off a poem, did you know?”
“I did not,” Vance replied. “But we’ll have to watch that movie sometime. I wonder if it’s on Netflix.” He didn’t wait for Jimmy to answer. Instead, he reached for the latch on the stall and opening it. “Come on.”
With excitement coursing through his body, Jimmy followed, sticking close to Vance’s side. As he drew near the large animal, which lifted its head and peered toward them, a fissure of unease zapped through him. While Jimmy had always admired the animals, had wanted to interact with them, he’d never actually gotten the chance... and they were bigger than he’d expected.
“Oh, wow,” Jimmy whispered, freezing when he saw the flecked gray animal take a step toward them, its head focused with obvious interest on Vance. Without thought, he blurted out, “Is it safe?”
Vance paused and peered back at him, obviously taking in his trepidation. “Have you ever been around a horse before, Jimmy?”
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